


Pale Sunlight, Clouded

by BrightLotusMoon



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Original Character, Break the Cutie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epilepsy, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Mikey Is An Iron Woobie, Mikey is a cinnamon roll, Psychic Mikey, Raph is a teddy bear, empath mikey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18366944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightLotusMoon/pseuds/BrightLotusMoon
Summary: Mikey is depressed. He doesn't understand why or how, but it's getting worse. After a severe head injury, he starts to realize that he's not the happy go lucky cheerful kid he thought he was. That's when an amateur therapist steps in. The Turtles' lives are unexpectedly changed.





	Pale Sunlight, Clouded

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly based on my own personal experiences with major depressive disorder and temporal lobe epilepsy.
> 
> Started as a bunch of snippets on Tumblr.

 

“…a hug, to death!”

Screaming, Michelangelo clawed his way up from the vicious dragging clutch of Kraang’s robot arms, pain in his ribs flaring, darkness like an ocean.

He felt himself flip in mid-air for a heart-stopping second before he crashed to the ground, face first, entire plastron protesting with red hot shrieks of agony. He tried to move his limbs to curl up, but all he could do was sob in pain.

Deeply familiar arms surrounded him, carefully easing him upright and around and pressing his face to a massively muscled shoulder. “Sshhh, easy, little bro, easy, I got ya. Just a dream. You’re okay, you’re okay, Mikey. Big bro Raph’s here, you’re gonna be okay. Kraang’s gone, it’s just a nightmare. Okay?”

Choking on a whimper, Mikey just shuddered and grabbed at his brother’s arms before the red pain overwhelmed him, struggling to convey the sheer agony ripping through him. “Raphie…hurts…”

“I know, Mikey, I know, it’s only been a week since the fight with Bubblicious, s’gonna hurt for a while. Ya want Donnie?”

Mikey tried to inhale and nod, but ohh his neck hurt and he couldn’t move and he stuttered out the first letter of their genius brother’s name like a damn baby.

He heard Raphael inhale to shout Donatello’s name, but then Donnie’s voice floated toward him. “I heard him scream, I grabbed the pain medication. There’s only so much stuff Casey can get at a time.”

And then he heard Leonardo. “What about Splinter’s herbal teas? Sometimes they help.”

He felt someone sit him up and support him. Automatically he opened his mouth to drag more air in and two tablets were placed on his tongue, followed by a glass full of water bumping against his lower lip. Mikey swallowed the pills with a grateful moan.

It was too much. He let his head hang, chin touching his chest above his plastron. He knew the pills would take a bit to kick in and he just wanted to sleep, but the raw burning deep in his ribs and sides and back were jolts of…of awake. He didn’t realize he was clenching his jaw and fists until Raph’s big hands covered his and squeezed. From behind, Leo was holding him up with one arm while the other hand hand was massaging his jaw, and he felt like a child. Something quiet and very dark and soft with sharp edges crawled into his mind and settled, and it was too heavy, and he sagged and let it spread. He was so tired.

 

A few days went by and he was pushed into bed whenever someone saw him flinch.  A whole week flew by without him noticing; he mostly slept through it, with Splinter’s teas and Donnie’s pills and pain causing exhaustion. He fell asleep on the couch often, jolting awake wrapped in someone’s arms.

“Cold,” he would mutter whenever someone asked how he felt. He was covered in blankets and given tea with honey, and there was always a heat lamp nearby. His ribs burned, his head pounded. He wasn’t hungry. They worried. Splinter fed him oatmeal that Don mixed vitamin powder into. He still felt like a little kid, but he didn’t object; it was comforting. Raph holding him, Leo massaging him, Don reading to him or watching TV with him.

Another week went by. Michelangelo felt himself get stronger. His mutation sped up the healing in his body enough so that the red hot pain vanished almost completely. His muscles were sore and his bones ached when it rained. When he finally walked into the dojo, nunchaku held casually in his loose fists, his brothers cheered. Splinter warned them all to go easy on him. After training, Donatello flipped on those goggles and scanned him, every inch, humming neutrally until Mikey squirmed. They all held their breath. Mikey tried to relax as Donnie stepped back, nodding.

“He’s gonna have permanent soreness, little aches,” Don said. “But he’s fine.”

Michelangelo exhaled and gave a victory sign.

Another week. He played his video games.

He was pronounced well enough to go back on patrol. Raphael clapped a heavy hand to his shoulder, grinning. Mikey grinned back.

The dark thing in his head, the soft quiet thing with sharp edges, was still there, and it had grown bigger, it had pushed against the walls of his mind and climbed up, like fog. He ignored it. It didn’t hurt.

**

April and Casey visited, hands casually intertwined as they balanced bags of groceries. Mikey greeted them like a puppy and grabbed one of the bags.

“What’d you get us?”

April smiled. “Actually, we did get you a present, Mikey. Sit down.”

Grinning widely, he squeaked and bounced, ignoring a tiny flash of pain in his ribcage that still hadn’t faded. Next to him, Donatello narrowed his eyes, which Mikey pretended not to notice. He hadn’t flinched that hard after all.

They set down the bags and began pulling out food.  April pulled out a wrapped soft thing and handed it to Michelangelo, who squealed and yanked off the wrapping paper easily. It was a glittery orange plush cat, and Mikey shouted, “My new best friend!” He kissed the plastic nose and shoved the cat, the size of his hand,  into his makeshift belt while he helped them put the food away.

**

Two more months.

Donnie said Mikey’s injuries might flare up depending on what he did. Mikey brushed it aside. Leo worried. Raph softly growled.

Typical family dynamics.

He still did not tell anyone about that crawling clawed pulsating dark thing moving around inside his head, the thing that felt like a creature with teeth and claws, made half of fire and half of ice.

They didn’t ask.

Mikey lived his life. He pretended to laugh more than he actually laughed.

Another week.

**

The sun had set not long ago and they were perched on a rooftop,  and Mikey felt himself coiled like a cat. April and Casey had befriended an old man and his husband, owners of a local jewelry and antiques shop. The granddaughter was working there tonight, she and April had become close. Casey had asked the turtles to keep an eye out; he’d heard chatter about a potential robbery.

The small sharp thing in the back of Mikey’s head shot to awareness and nearly made him dizzy.

_It’s happening, she’s vulnerable, she’s afraid._

His head was filled with heat. He rubbed his forehead.

A trio of black-clad men raced out of the storefront and an alarm blared.

Leo gave a hand signal, and they moved.

Mikey put himself closest to the door and heard glass shatter. Pure instinct made him dart into the store. Donnie was yelling his name.

A fourth man was holding down a tiny woman who was shaking, glass cutting into her arms. Without thinking, Mikey drove his elbow into the back of the man’s neck, then lifted him with one hand and hurled him toward the door. All his focus was on the woman who was sitting up, shivering, and staring at him in wonder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and the thing in his head was soft and it purred.

She kept staring, panting. Her hands came up as if to frame his face.

“I dreamed about you,” she whispered, and began hyperventilating.

Mikey blinked and quickly grabbed her hands. “Hey, what’s brown and sticky? A stick. What did Batman say to Robin before they got in the Batmobile? Robin, get in the car. What’s black and white and read all over? A newspaper. Breathe. Breathe with me.”

She kept staring at him, but her breathing evened out and she smiled weakly. “Th-thank you.”

He smiled back, nodding, looking her over. Pale light gold skin with freckles sprinkled across a long narrow nose; dark brown roots peeking through deep purple hair gathered in a wavy ponytail almost down to the waist; bright hazel eyes with a huge splash of blue in the left iris, deep undereye circles that spoke of pain and insomnia. A wide mouth and a sharp square jawline. Sharp high cheekbones. The hands he held were tiny, fingers long and thin, nails clipped short. Clothing was casual. Turquoise tee shirt, light blue jeans, brown ankle boots. Her musculature was unusual. His ninja senses told him something was extremely off. The whole left side of her body was crooked, muscles in permanent contraction. He carefully pulled her up and noticed that she limped on her left side, and as he watched her left wrist tucked inward but she didn’t seem to notice.

“You hurt?” he asked, watching.

Her tiny one-sided smile told him that she had been asked this a thousand times. “Nah. I was born disabled. I mean… I’m not hurt from the break-in. Bruised maybe.”

“So, not hurt right now.”

Her eyes flicked to him, then decided to stay, and he realized she wasn’t used to prolonged eye contact. “Right. You’re quick.”

“And you’re all right with me. You’re not scared of me?”

She inhaled. “I told you. I had a dream about you. Or three. Also, I made April tell me about you four.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Lights and sirens. He blinked.

Casey was hurrying toward them. “Mikey, what the hell? You’re lucky these cops know who you are!” He looked at the woman. “Avalyn, are you okay? Need an ambulance?”

She shook her head. “Nope, my rescuer helped out. Hi, Casey.”

Casey wrapped his arms around her. The way she hugged back was hesitant and very tight.

Casey heaved a sigh of relief into her colorful hair. “You know I’m gonna have to tell your granddad. He’s gonna freak out. Your grandpop will have his hands full calming him.”

She rested her head on his chest. Mikey guessed she was barely five feet tall. It was endearing. “Granddad always freaks out. Sometimes he forgets I can handle myself.”

Casey leaned back and booped her nose. “That doesn’t matter. You’re autistic, epileptic, and chronically pained, and you have mildly spastic dystonic ataxic cerebral palsy, and you live in fucking Manhattan. I’m not related to you, and I’m worried about you.”

Mikey tilted his head. That would explain that, the physical thing, her body.

He watched her wrinkle her whole face and pout. “Excuse you, Detective Jones. I’m twenty years old, halfway through online college for neuropsychology and I take tai chi for cripples, plus I’m extremely psychic.”

 _Aha. Yes._ The thing in his head purred. He frowned, confused.

Casey heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah yeah, you’re a rarity. Okay. We’re not doing this again.” He turned toward Mikey and made a waving gesture. “Avalyn Gold, meet one of the Heroes Of New York.This is Michelangelo.”

Mikey waved, feeling shy. “Hi.”

Avalyn Gold, the disabled psychic, waved back in the exact same way. “Hi.”

Casey’s brow knit as he frowned at Michelangelo.

“You’re in so much trouble, Mikey. Your bros are panicking. Aren’t you still recovering from Krang’s attack?” This time, Casey folded his arms and looked stern. Mikey raised an eyeridge. Avalyn giggled.

Mikey glanced at her and grinned, and did a backflip.

And Casey’s eyes narrowed when Mikey winced, hot and cold pain from his cracked ribcage and plastron hitting even now. Mikey’s eyes widened and he inhaled deeply, trying not to cough, because the young woman’s kind eyes with their heterochromia were wide and she was biting her lip, because her own hand was rubbing her own sternum, _as if she could feel his pain._

Michelangelo knew they would be friends. He didn’t know how, but he _knew._

Avalyn Gold gave him a tiny smile and nodded.

The creature in his head hissed and backed away, blinking as if struck with a beam of strong light.

 


End file.
